


Spellbound

by dinsoku



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinsoku/pseuds/dinsoku
Summary: When a spell backfires on England, it has a rather unsavory side-effect: his mind starts to receive the thoughts and feelings of a certain...intimidating nation.





	1. Chapter 1

The spell had gone _horribly_ wrong.

Arthur stood there motionless, his arms still lifted to shield himself from the explosion. Soot gathering at his feet, he shook his head to hide the ringing in his ears. A frown worked its way onto his face at the ruined spell book at his feet. Reaching down to pick it up, the cover crumbled to his touch. It was a shame. The book had been hundreds of years old.

Exploding aside, the spell didn’t appear to have done much else. He felt no strange side-effects as he dusted himself off. Relief filled him as he straightened up. He had endured much worse backfires in the past. He was thankful this one had been so mild. Removing his singed cloak, he let it fall to his ankles. Now came the hardest part; tidying it all up.

 

***

 

The meeting was unbelievably dull. Alfred was on another rant about nonsense he had long stopped listening to. Instead he found himself picturing the flight back home. He wondered how long he would have to wait before he tasted freshly-made fish and chips. Or perhaps a homemade shepherd’s pie? His stomach grumbled. His mind was filled with thoughts of food when someone asked him something he didn’t quite catch.

“Hmm?” He half-turned to China, who sat next to him.

China watched Alfred with glazed-over eyes, ignoring Arthur completely. He frowned and looked to his other side. Italy’s head was propped up by his arm as he dozed off. He focused his eyes back on Alfred, who seemed oblivious to everyone’s disinterest.

“—and that is why the conservation of the Florida panther should be our highest priority!” Alfred’s conclusion caused the non-sleeping nations to perk up. He held his arms out dramatically as he sported his trademark grin. Arthur wondered if he was waiting for a round of applause. Flustered at the lack of response, Alfred sat back down and shuffled his papers.

“Finally.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The word was whispered right into his ear. Arthur spun around in his seat, heart pounding. His eyes frantically searched the space behind him. No one was there. He shivered, who said that?

“Ahem, England?” Germany’s voice brought him back to the present. He turned. His voice caught. A room full of nations stared back at him. His face burned at the sudden attention.

“Sorry, I just,” he struggled to come up with an explanation, “I thought I heard something. Sorry.”

Although he continued to get a few worried or amused looks, most of their curiosity had been sated. Arthur kept his head down, ears red with embarrassment, and pretended to read his notes as the meeting rattled on.

 

***

 

With the meeting finished, the nations were left to eat and mingle. Arthur nibbled absent-mindedly on a biscuit. He struggled to place the voice he heard before. It had been so close. Right into his ear. There was no way someone could have snuck up on him and then hidden so quickly.

“Are you feeling alright, Angleterre?”

He could picture the condescending smirk accompanying those words. Biting back a groan, Arthur turned and narrowed his eyes at Francis. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to put up with him right now.

“What do you want, frog?” He muttered half-heartedly.

“There’s no need for that,” Francis raised an eyebrow and his smirk grew, “I am _very_ concerned about your health, England.”

Arthur said nothing. He figured his glare spoke well enough.

Undeterred, Francis leaned forward and placed his fingers around his shoulder in mock-comfort. “Have you been hearing voices? Do you need to talk to someone?” He winked, “Strange things happen in old age, you know!”

Shrugging the hand off, Arthur readied himself to retort. “I am _not_ hearing voices, I—”

He trailed off. A wave of rage washed over him. So strong it drowned out everything else. _What the hell?_ He thought, his head reeling. Anger pulsed through his body. He wanted to hit someone. Damn it, he wanted to _kill_ someone. He held his fists at his sides, trying desperately to calm himself. Clenching them, Arthur scrambled to determine the source of his fury.

“You…?” Francis raised his eyebrows, looking unimpressed. His presence certainly wasn’t helping things. Grinding his teeth, Arthur turned away from him. His anger reached a boiling point he struggled to contain. He needed to…to throw something.

There was a crash. A chair flew across the room. It slammed into the wall next to them, showering him and Francis with bits of wood. A dead silence loomed over the nations. Shaking splinters from his hair, he spotted Alfred and Russia. Glaring at each other, with noses nearly touching, they looked like they were ready to start throwing punches.

When a stream of angry Russian filled his mind, Arthur realized with a jolt how very wrong he had been about the side-effects of the spell.

 

***

 

The spell had somehow given him the ability to read Russia’s thoughts. _Russia! Of all people!_ He paced back and forth along the small hotel room. His fingers frantically ran through his hair as he tried to think of a solution. The spell book was unsalvageable and, unfortunately, it contained instructions on how to fix his newfound telepathy. Arthur groaned and sat down on the bed, hunched over with his head in his hands.

How did it work? Could Russia read his mind as well? Would it wear off over time? He had so many unanswered questions. He let out an angry sigh. “Ugh, this is why I shouldn’t mess about with magic,” he groaned to himself. It was a fickle thing, and it always seemed to bite him in the arse sooner or later.

Arthur racked his brains while his fingers tapped his knee in thought. There might be a copy of the book, but it could be anywhere and he wasn’t going to find it anytime soon.

 _I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it for now_. He would have to search for another copy and, in the meantime, avoid Russia like the plague. Easy enough to do. He already kept the intimidating country a comfortable, lengthy distance from himself.

A knock on the door snapped him from his pondering. Flattening his hair with his hands, he peered through the tiny eyehole. Blue eyes and a wide smile filled his vision. Arthur sucked in a steely breath. Unbolting the door, he opened it enough to greet Alfred, but not wide enough to welcome him inside.

“Yes, America?” He asked, keeping his tone neutral, but polite.

“Hey, England!” The younger nation’s smile widened, “Me and Japan were heading out to eat. You should join us, dude!”

The thought of being a third wheel didn’t sit well with him. But Arthur knew if he didn’t distract himself, he’d be up all night worrying about his “little” problem.

“Alright.” To his own surprise, he was already starting to feel less miserable about the whole ordeal. “Just a moment so I can get changed.” Alfred nodded as he shut the door. He threw on something a bit more casual. Catching a glance at himself in the mirror, he fiddled with his hair. When random tufts refused to lay flat, he resigned himself to his unruly appearance.

Within a minute or so, Alfred led him down a few floors to Japan’s hotel room. Japan met them halfway down the hallway, with Canada in tow. Exchanging hellos, Arthur gave Canada a questioning look.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Canada?”

“Yeah! Me, Japan, and Canada are going out, I told you upstairs,” Alfred explained, counting out three with his fingers.

Arthur frowned, recalling what he had said moments before, “I’m certain you didn’t mention Canada?”

“I did!” Alfred frowned, but it was replaced with a grin, “Are you starting to forget things, old man?” He poked Arthur’s forehead a couple times to emphasize his point. He took a step away from the offending finger, causing Alfred to miss a third poke, and grumbled to himself. He let it go. He didn’t feel like arguing today.

“Either way, it’s good to see you,” turning, he flashed the Canadian a small smile. Japan nodded in agreement. Canada, who seemed worried during his and Alfred’s exchange, brightened up considerably.

Alfred picked out a local diner a short walk from the hotel. He and Japan started talking about video games, while Arthur and Canada lagged behind. He made awkward small talk to fill the silence.

The two were about ten feet behind Alfred and Japan. Canada’s stride suddenly slowed, and Arthur struggled to adjust. “Did you see what happened earlier?” He strained to hear his quiet voice.

“What?”

“At the meeting. America and Russia,” he half-whispered, “I don’t know what they were arguing about, but now he’s acting like it didn’t happen.”

Arthur hummed in agreement. It was a bit odd. He had been so busy worrying over the spell, he completely forgot about it. He remembered how tense the atmosphere was between the two, and how Russia stormed off without saying a single word.

He figured that Alfred said something offensive, but Russia’s reaction made him think otherwise. He usually met the American’s comments with a sly insult or two of his own. Whatever Alfred had said, it must have gotten through his thick skin.

“He’s not even bragging about it,” Canada added, “You think he’d take every opportunity to bring it up, eh?”

“That is unlike him,” he agreed.

“Hey, guys, this is the place!” Alfred shouted back at them, pointing at one of the storefronts. Sandwiched between a barber’s shop and a tacky antique store stood Jackie's Diner. Despite its distance from the main road, it was packed with people.

The hostess greeted them brightly as they entered, forced to raise her voice over the chatter. She led them to an empty booth, handing everyone their menus. Arthur ran through the list of choices and decided to try out their fish and chips.

As they waited for their food, Canada brought up how boring the meeting had been. "B-besides Alfred's speech," he added after the American shot him a betrayed look.

“I thought the meeting was very insightful,” Japan piped up.

“The best part was my presentation on the lion.”

“You mean the Florida panther?”

“Panther, lion, same thing,” Alfred shrugged as he scrolled through his phone.

“Hey, England, what happened at the meeting this morning?” Canada asked, throwing him a questioning look.

Alfred paused and looked up. “Oh, yeah! What was up with that?”

The Englishman flushed, “I just…I thought I heard something. That’s all.”

“Like what?” Japan asked with interest.

He hesitated. “I thought I heard someone say ‘finally.’ Why does it matter?”

“Weird! Maybe it was a ghost,” Alfred suggested, leaning back in his seat, “I heard that ghosts like to whisper in your ear like that.”

“Maybe,” Arthur was tempted to roll his eyes. He managed to resist.

“Maybe it was saying ‘finally, the meeting’s almost done’!” Canada joked. He grinned as Alfred immediately burst into laughter.

“Good one, Mattie!” Punching his brother’s shoulder, Alfred wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. The waitress returned with their drinks, setting them carefully on the table. After she left, Alfred continued, “Speaking of ghosts, there’s this new movie coming out. Can’t remember the name, but a ghost possesses some woman’s kid and…hey, wait a minute, why the hell are all the horror movies about possession lately? Fuckin’ weird. Anyway, I’m sure you have a one-star review ready to go.” He turned back to Arthur with a wry smile.

“I’ll stop writing them when you stop making such shite films,” he retorted, grinning into his drink. He was relieved the topic of conversation had shifted.

“That hurts, England,” Alfred clutched at his chest dramatically, “At least Matthew appreciates my work. Right, bro?”

As the American pestered his brother, an uneasy feeling settled in Arthur’s gut. He looked down at his drink, a well of sadness clung to him despite his good mood just a moment ago. He ran his finger along the cool glass, leaving marks in the condensation. He looked up and took a glance around the booth. He wondered how close they all _really_ were. Sure, they all shared history together, but could they technically be called his friends?

Alfred and Canada had left him long ago. He had done terrible things to all three of them in the past. How could they forgive him for that? He felt numb; his mind flooded with bad memories. Would they be so friendly toward him if it wasn’t a good political move? He ran his eyes along the grained woodwork of the table. Clutching his glass, he felt heavy, and…alone.

“Are you feeling alright, Igirisu?” Japan’s voice was quiet, but filled with concern. Alfred continued defending his films to his brother, both oblivious to Arthur’s change in mood.

“Just knackered from the meeting this morning, don’t worry,” he insisted, managing to crack a strained smile. Japan nodded half-heartedly, not convinced by his words, but didn’t press the issue. Arthur’s sadness only deepened, and with it came a sense of frustration at himself.

_Is there something wrong with me?_

That voice…it was the same one from the meeting. Arthur shook his head and blinked with realization. He glanced around the restaurant, and his eyes settled on a familiar figure. Russia stood on the sidewalk outside, watching the group of four through the large window. When their eyes met, he turned and took off down the street.

Arthur froze in realization. Those had been Russia’s feelings? His heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. He had no idea how lonely the other nation was. He remembered a time when he felt the same, when his own self-hatred tormented him. _It still does,_ he grimaced.

His gaze lingered on the window, waiting for Russia to return. When he didn’t, Arthur frowned and stood. Excusing himself, he snuck out of the diner.

He followed the sidewalk until he reached a stretch of shops. He recognized Russia leaning against the brick wall of a clothing store. He took a long drag from a cigarette. As Arthur approached, they locked eyes, and Russia snuffed it out with his boot. The other nation’s uneasiness pricked at his chest, but Russia himself remained expressionless. It made him pause. It was still strange to feel someone else’s emotions inside him.

“England,” he gave a stiff nod.

“Alright?” Arthur replied, hesitant. He hadn’t exactly given any forethought to what he was doing. Embarrassment spun in his stomach for acting so spontaneously. He wanted to _avoid_ Russia, not track him down after a sudden, misplaced feeling of empathy!

“Is there something you want?” England didn’t have to read his thoughts to tell he was pissed off.

“Y-yes,” he swallowed, “I saw you outside the restaurant, and…”

Russia glared at him, but said nothing, waiting for Arthur to explain himself. He could feel Russia’s insecurities filling around his own mind. He continued, “I was wondering if…erm…that is, you’d like to go for a drink?” He mentally slapped himself, _so now I’m spending even_ more _time with him?_

Distrust and suspicion flared up within the Russian. Images invaded Arthur’s mind. A drunk Russia, hunched over his drink, spilling secrets. On the other side of the table, he saw himself. This false-England hung on every word, smirking. It was off-putting. This was what Russia thought his motives were, to steal information? Arthur furrowed his brow. He had little interest in learning his secrets. How could he convince him he had no ill intentions?

“Not right now, obviously,” Arthur elaborated, “It’s just…at the diner…you seemed like you needed a drink.” He finished, mentally kicking himself for sounding so stupid.

He could feel Russia weighing his options. “I always need a drink,” his smile clashed against cold eyes, “Very well, we will go after next meeting, yes?” Arthur’s heart hammered, knowing the reason Russia agreed was to extract secrets from _him_. He made a mental note to watch how much he drank tomorrow.

“Looking forward to it,” Arthur managed to wrestle out. He turned and made his way back to the diner. His heart hammered against his chest. With every step, he felt Russia’s eyes burning holes into his back.

What sort of mess had he gotten himself into?

 

***

 

“Hey, England! What took you so long?” Alfred’s voice cut through his thoughts as he made his way back to his seat. “Your food is getting cold, dude!”

“Sorry about that,” Arthur apologized, “There was a queue for the toilet.”

“Yeah, this place is packed,” Alfred agreed as he glanced around the crowded tables, “Oh! We were talking about your films while you were gone.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised at that, trying to hide his excitement, “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” mischief glinted in the American’s blue eyes, “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as me, but Matthew doesn’t think so.”

Canada stuttered, “I-I never said that!”

As the two brothers quarreled, Arthur picked at his cold fish and chips, his thoughts elsewhere. He knew what unbearable loneliness felt like; to feel isolated for centuries. Perhaps that was what caused him to run after Russia. His heart was in the right place, but he worried that he was making a big mistake trying to befriend someone so unpredictable.

Although, he did have the upper hand, being able to read Russia’s thoughts and all. If he did get into a dangerous situation, he would at least see it coming. Arthur mindlessly stabbed at his breaded fish with a fork. Besides, he might as well make the most out of this unfortunate situation.


	2. Chapter 2

The following day’s meeting was uneventful. As it went on, Russia’s suspicions grew and it began to rub off on him. He felt agitated, nervous. During a short break, Arthur ignored the snack-filled platters. His stomach was too upset to even think about eating. He threw a plate of cheese and crackers a weary frown. How could Russia’s feelings affect him so much?

“England.”

He stiffened and turned to meet Russia’s cold stare. “Yes?” He managed to keep his voice level despite the tall nation towering over him.

“Our meeting, I have been thinking it over,” he hummed, “I am wondering what your motive is?”

Arthur gulped, his heart pounding against his chest. If he was being honest, even he had no clue what he was hoping to gain from all this. “I don’t have a motive. Unless you count wanting to have a drink with a friend as one?” He shot him what he hoped looked like a questioning glance.

 _Friends?_ Russia’s unspoken thought rung in his ears, but it was struck down by his ever-growing suspicion. “We are hardly friends,” Russia said stiffly.

“No, but that’s the point of getting to know each other, innit?” Arthur met his gaze to emphasize his sincerity, trying his best to swallow his instinct to book it.

Russia’s confusion, coupled with disbelief, increased, making Arthur’s own stomach flip-flop. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “Excuse me.” Russia turned to go converse with a small group of nations across the room. Arthur gathered his thoughts. Russia’s emotions were fierce and raw, yet his face remained a blank slate through all of it. _And here I thought I had a stiff upper lip,_ he mused with a grimace.

With Germany announcing the end of the break, the nations made their way back to their seats. Arthur could feel Russia’s eyes on him the entire time; his thoughts muddled as he tried to figure him out. Tired of being watched, Arthur met his gaze and managed what he hoped was a convincing smile. Russia stared at him, his face that same unsettlingly blank canvas. Arthur’s fear got the best of him and he looked down at his notes, breaking eye contact.

The rest of his thoughts were in Russian. Arthur mentally cursed that his knowledge of the language was so rusty. As the meeting came to an end, nations shuffled out the double doors, and Arthur made his way into the hallway. He hung back to give Russia a chance to catch up. The taller nation looked down at him, and Arthur felt like he was being observed under a microscope.

“I assume you know where we’re going?”

“There’s an English pub down the street,” Arthur shrugged nervously. He always went there during these meetings; it was the closest thing to home he had found on the unfamiliar streets of New York City. He figured it was the safest place to meet. Russia followed his lead, and an awkward silence settled between them.

It was Russia who broke it. “It is refreshing to find a country who says what he means,” his smile was anything but friendly, “That is assuming you aren’t lying.”

Arthur took a deep, steadying breath. Russia obviously still didn’t trust his intentions. _What on Earth could be making him so suspicious?_ He wondered, curious. Perhaps he could find out? Maybe he wasn’t a one-way radio, forever receiving Russia’s thoughts one after another. Maybe there was an active side to his newfound ability? He saw no harm in trying. Arthur attempted to reach out, to sift through the other’s mind.

It gave him an odd, numbing feeling, like his brain had pins and needles. He wouldn’t call it a pleasant experience. It took all his energy to keep a straight face as Russia’s mind opened up to him; his current thoughts swirling around his own head.

Suspicion. He expected that. Polite eyes and friendly smiles, but beneath it was something wicked. Their words brimmed with empty promises. Their grubby fingers grabbing for what was rightfully his. Faces flashed in his mind’s eye like a whirlwind. Some, Arthur recognized, while others were foreign to him. Friendly masks crumbled to reveal true intentions. He wasn’t going to fall for it again.

Arthur recoiled, his own heart drummed wildly against his chest. For a moment, he had trouble discerning where he was and which thoughts were his as he settled back into his own mind. He swallowed thickly. He wasn’t about to try that again.

Russia glared at him, expecting an answer. He frowned, struggling to figure out how to handle the other nation’s unwavering mistrust. He was only being friendly! It seemed like he nicer he acted, the more false he appeared, like the faces in Russia’s mind. He decided to switch tactics.

“There’s this silly thing called trust, you should try it,” Arthur responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but his heart racing.

At first, Russia was taken aback, but anger bubbled up within him. “And you’re telling me I should trust _you_?” He snapped back.

“Why not?” He shrugged, “It isn’t wartime, what are you afraid of?”

Russia said nothing, begrudgingly considering his words. His thoughts were a storm of furious Russian. It wasn’t hard for Arthur to infer what a few choice words were supposed to mean.

Entering the pub, relief washed over Arthur. He showed Russia his seat and went off to order their drinks at the bar. He was in familiar territory, and his heart began to calm. Setting their drinks on the table, Arthur sat across from Russia, already taking a few sips.

“Do you keep up with football?” It wasn't an ideal topic of conversation. To be fair, he didn't have much to go on. He pointed to a lonely television on the far wall. Athletes scrambled across the fuzzy screen, chasing a black-and-white pixel.

Russia ignored the question. “You are so committed to playing this game. If I were a fool, I’d start to think there’s truth to it.”

“I _am_ telling the truth,” Arthur argued as he downed the first half of his drink. Noticing Russia’s full glass, he let out a sigh, “You don’t have to be so suspicious. Is it that odd for two lonely countries to have a drink together without it being some sort of spy-versus-spy nonsense?”

Russia tilted his head in response, taking a notably small sip of his drink. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I’ll tell you what,” he pressed his finger against the table, “We’ll take turns asking questions, and when one of us answers, we both take a drink. How’s that?” Sure, he was already a half-pint ahead, but he was feeling rather confident.

“Very well. What’s your question?”

“Ah, ha! That itself counts as the first question, so take a sip!” He smirked, mentally applauding himself for that one as they drank. Russia shot him an unimpressed look. “My question is...which do you prefer, cats or dogs?”

Russia raised an eyebrow at that. “Cats,” he answered, after a few moments of mental deliberation. Arthur made a wild gesture and they both drank.

“I prefer dogs, I suppose,” he remarked, then gave the Russian an irritated glance when he didn’t raise his glass with him.

A smirk spread along his lips, “I never asked you the question back. I don’t have to drink. These are your rules.”

“You cheeky little shit,” he mumbled, starting to feel the familiar buzz of alcohol in the back of his brain, “Alright, fine, go ahead.”

“What are the current positions of your country’s nuclear submarines?”

“I’m _not_ bloody answering that!” He exclaimed, “You can’t ask about my army or my politics!”

“You never said this. You can’t change the rules now that we have started,” Russia’s tone was short and clearly annoyed.

“Well, I never said our answers had to be truthful,” he sniffed, leaning back in his seat with a glare, “You might as well give up on that and ask me a question I’m willing to answer.”

“Fine,” Russia knitted his fingers together, “If you were telling the truth before, and you aren’t here to spy, then why do you wish to be friends with me?”

He thought for a moment, considering his answer. “Well, I saw you at the diner and you…looked sad,” he shrugged a little, “I figured you needed some company.”

Russia said nothing, covering any potential response with a sip of his drink. However, Arthur could feel him weighing his answer and felt his suspicion lessen. Not by much, but it was something.

Setting his glass back on the table, he threw the Englishman an unfriendly smile. “It is your turn,” he said, his voice smooth, guarded. Arthur found himself struggling to come up with his next question.

 

***

 

“An’ then I told ‘im: not going to piss about with you, Jock, I’m taking your fucking rock and I’m putting it under _my_ chair! Took me six centuries to finally give it back to ‘im,” Arthur snickered against his glass and sighed, “Ah…I was such an arsehole back then.”

A smile played on Russia’s lips. His glass was empty and Arthur wondered when he would be getting another. He vaguely remembered Russia drinking, but that was about three pints back. Or was it four? Either way, Arthur beamed back, he was glad the Russian was having a good time.

“This reminds me,” Russia tapped his chin, fingers drumming against his glass, “How is your government handling things? I have heard that there are several points of weakness. That must be very frustrating for you, yes?”

He scowled. Russia had kept asking him exceedingly boring questions all night. Couldn’t they talk about something fun?

“Don’t talk to me about ‘em. Wouldn’t know their arse from their elbow, fucking prats.”

“They make you angry?” Russia pressed.

“’Course they do,” he sneered and nestled his chin in his palm, “Anyway, I don’t want to talk politics, it’s bloody boring! We talk about it enough during meetings for fuck’s sake.” He swayed in place, his fingers clutching the edge of the table to steady himself.

Russia’s smile fell and his words became cold and biting, “Fine, then answer this: why did you want to have drink with me today?”

“Already answered that one.”

“You did, but this time I want the truth.”

“I gave you the truth already,” Arthur glared back and his voice took on a sickeningly condescending tone, “Want me to repeat it? A bit slower this time?”

His smile screamed danger, and if Arthur wasn’t drunk, he probably would have sprinted out of the pub without hesitation. Sadly, his brain was a fog of anger, and his tongue a loose cannon. And Russia was acting like a complete and utter _arse_.

The angry response he prepared for never came. Russia stood up from his seat, reaching his full height. Their eyes locked, and the tension in the air practically palpable. “Thank you for the drink.” The words hit him, absolutely devoid of any thanks.

His eyes followed the Russian’s retreating back until it was out of sight.

 

***

 

It was the third and final day of their meeting. During this time, most nations were restless, wanting to return home. Arthur had woken up from a night of fitful sleep. He checked his phone for the time, and leapt out of bed realizing he had five minutes until the meeting started. He threw on something suitably formal and dashed out the door.

Luckily, he bounded through the double doors right on time. Ignoring Francis’ wink, he flopped into his seat as Ukraine began her speech. Exhaustion pulling at his eyelids, Arthur spent most of the meeting doodling in his notes. He felt Russia’s gaze linger on him again. He ignored it.

He didn’t remember much of last night, but he knew that it hadn’t exactly gone as well as he hoped. At least he had managed to keep his head. _So much for that_. He glared at one of his drawings and scribbled it out, deciding it was an ideal victim to take his frustration out on.

Arthur was thankful for the meeting break. He hadn’t had time for breakfast, so he filled his plate with a generous serving of pastries. Tearing into a croissant, he joined Francis and Alfred, who were discussing the first round of presentations.

“Ah,” Francis took a glance at his overflowing plate, “Taking after l’Amérique, I see?”

Arthur threw him a half-hearted glare, too hungry to bother defending his pride.

Alfred turned away from the Frenchman. “England! I forgot to tell you. I’m hosting an awesome post-meeting party tonight,” he slapped Arthur on the shoulder, ignoring his resulting wince, “You should come, dude!”

Alfred filled him in on the details, but he didn’t have time to reply before the break was called to a close. The meeting resumed. Arthur scribbled down notes mechanically. Two hours passed. His head snapped up as nations began to stand from their seats.

Gathering his things into his briefcase, Arthur let out a sigh of relief. He was heading home tomorrow morning and he would finally be able to sleep in his own bed again. Pushing open the door, he faltered. Russia stood outside the meeting room, presumably waiting for him.

“England,” Russia stepped forward.

Arthur held back a groan. He wanted to go back to his hotel room and pack. He didn’t want to have to deal with Russia again. Was he there to get the last insult in before they all left?

“Yes, what is it?”

“I want to…apologize,” the Russian’s words were careful, “For yesterday. I have a, ah, difficult time trusting people.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” He replied haughtily.

He looked at his hands and narrowed his eyes, making a point to ignore Arthur’s sarcasm. “Yes. It is difficult for me to believe that someone would talk to me without wanting something in return. I was convinced you had…ulterior motives. I thought I was beating you at your own game, so to speak.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, doubtful. He wasn’t expecting Russia to be so frank with him, but he could feel the weight behind his apology. _He really is sorry then?_ “What changed your mind?” He asked, slightly suspicious.

Russia hid his fidgeting hands in his pockets, “I realized that if you wanted something from me, you would have made that clear last night.” He could feel Russia’s amusement as he thought back to how drunk Arthur had been. The Englishman’s ears reddened with embarrassment.

“That’s all well and good,” Arthur looked away and shuffled his feet, “But how can I trust you not to try and pull that again?”

“You have only my promise,” Russia replied simply, gesturing up at himself. He narrowed his eyes at the taller nation, grabbing at his mind once more. Instead of deception, however, he found only sincerity. Arthur frowned. Russia really meant what he said.

“Hm, I’ll hold you to it then,” he said, deciding to switch subjects before he changed his mind, “Are you going to the party tonight?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Party?”

“Yeah, it’s tonight at eight. America’s hosting it, I think. At his apartment,” he clarified.

Russia barely hid his annoyance at that. “Well…that would explain why I heard nothing about it.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he flashed him a small, lop-sided smile and joked, “Perhaps you could be my plus-one?”

A wicked smirk spread across Russia’s face at the thought of irritating America with his unwanted presence. He shivered. Even with Russia’s malice directed at someone else, it still sent chills dancing down his spine.

 

***

 

“Hey, dude! Glad you could make it—” Alfred’s welcome fell short as his gaze settled on Russia, who met his eyes with an unsettling smile. He huffed, gripping the door a little closer to himself, and shot Arthur a questioning look, “England, what the hell?”

“Erm…Russia’s my plus-one,” he avoided his eyes, guilt gnawing at his chest.

“It’s an invitation-only party,” Alfred’s voice was harsh as he shot daggers at the Russian.

“Ah…I didn’t know that. Sorry,” he mumbled, hoping Alfred would forgive him. He’d make it up to him later, for sure. After a moment of blatant pouting, the American seemed to accept his apology. He let out a heavy sigh, opening the door fully to show them inside.

Alfred was hosting the party in his loft apartment. Arthur couldn’t help but stop and take it all in. Despite its smaller size, it was still quite luxurious. The tall windows projected a stunning view of the New York City skyline. Uncountable lights glimmered against the night sky. The apartment itself was packed. Alfred snaked his way past guests as he led the pair to the bar. He whipped his head back every so often to point out places of interest.

“Okay! I think that’s everything! I’ll be back later, I’ve gotta sort something out,” he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, “Have fun, dude!”

Alfred departed, but not without throwing a glare or two back at Russia, his body quickly swallowed up by the crowd. Arthur heard Russia chuckle, radiating pleasure at having been given a chance to irritate him. After a pause, Arthur shot him a side-long glance, “Right, fuck this, I’m having a drink.”

“You think that’s a good idea considering how the last drink went?” Russia asked with a critically-raised eyebrow.

Arthur made a beeline for the bar, “I’ll be fine.” He shot him a suspicious look as he lifted himself onto one of the bar stools, “Right? No more games.”

Russia nodded, “No more games.”

The bar stool creaked as the taller nation sat down next to him. Alfred had gone through the trouble of hiring a bartender for his party, who kept shooting the Italy brothers worried glances as they bickered a few seats away. He managed to get the man’s attention and ordered a beer, which Russia seconded.

“No vodka?” He eyed Russia’s bottle, slightly surprised.

“I don’t always drink vodka.”

“Isn’t there a saying that your people drink vodka like it’s water?”

Russia stared blankly at him. “Should you not be drinking tea then?” His frown curved into a smile, eyes sparkling.

“That’s not…ah,” Arthur paused and relented, “Alright, fine! Good point.”

Russia took a victorious swig from his drink. There was an odd, comfortable atmosphere between them. Whether it was from the alcohol, pissing off Alfred, or both, Russia was in good spirits.

“So,” he began slowly, “Are you looking forward to going home tomorrow?”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation. “Yes. I hate coming here for these meetings.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. The conviction lacing his words was unexpected, to say the least. “You seem to have a very strong opinion about it,” he noted.

Russia shrugged, visibly on the verge of slipping into a rant. “Everyone here is nosy. All smiles. A whole city full of false faces.”

He neglected to point out that Russia tended to wear a very false face indeed. Instead, he added:

“A city full of Alfreds.”

Russia snorted at that, taking a long swig of his drink, “Exactly.”

“To be fair, I don’t think it’s fake. It’s only them being polite, I suppose.”

“You really think their lives are that happy that they feel the need to smile at everything?”

He had a sudden urge to play devil’s advocate. “Is that difficult to believe?” Arthur asked, curiosity peaked.

Russia laughed as if the mere idea was absolutely absurd.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur acceded, “I don’t know. It’s an American thing. Maybe you don’t smile enough, have you ever considered that?”

His face was blank for a moment. “Like this?” He inquired, an unsettlingly forced smile gracing his features.

Arthur shuddered and lifted his hands, “Fucking hell, no! Never do that again and forget I said anything!”

It fell from his face as quickly as it appeared, but Russia’s eyes glimmered with unexpressed amusement. They continued to chat for a while when Russia suddenly excused himself—to go to the toilet, Arthur assumed. He disappeared into the crowd.

Arthur turned back to his drink, his fingers warm against cold glass. He immediately regretted Russia’s absence as a familiar voice cut through the chatter around him.

 “Scaring others away with your drunken ramblings again?”

“Francis,” Arthur mumbled into his bottle, finishing it off.

“And the both of you were starting to get along so well,” the Frenchman added with a smirk, wordlessly taking Russia’s unoccupied seat.

“Hmph.”

Francis scrutinized him. “Why are you so interested in him? It seems you two are together a lot lately. Are you after his military secrets?” At Arthur’s glare, he changed his tone, “Or perhaps you’re getting more privately acquainted?”

Heat pooled into his cheeks, both from anger and embarrassment, at the insinuation. “It’s nothing like that! Why don’t you just piss off already?” He hissed, waving down the bartender for another beer, he was going to need it, “And why do you care, anyway?”

Francis wasn’t deterred by his temper, “I am worried for one of my closest friends, who is spending a lot of time around a dangerous and terrifying Russian man.”

Arthur snorted with disbelief at the “closest friends” comment, hoping that it would draw him into another argument and shift their conversation away from Russia.

The Frenchman wasn’t easily fooled. He ignored the bait and continued: “Do you think I haven’t noticed your little chats during breaks? The shared glances? Or what about the fact that you two ran off after yesterday’s meeting? Have you finally found _love_ …?”

“No! Fuck off!” He snapped, briefly wishing he had more time to think of a more convincing comeback.

“Then why?”

“Do I need a reason?” Arthur grumbled, his irritation only grew at his pestering.

“You do if you don’t want me to assume you are having _des relations sexuelles_ ,” his smile widened as Arthur’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“I…” Arthur stammered, having trouble coming up with a good reason himself. He had wanted to keep Russia from feeling lonely. And he did have an interest in testing out his newly-acquired telepathy. Did he really want to be friends with him? Especially after what happened last night? “…I just wanted to figure out why he and Alfred were fighting the other day,” he lied, “Make sure another bloody Cold War isn’t about to spring up again between those two.”

“Ah,” Francis seemed disappointed with his answer, “So your purpose is to gather intelligence? Rather sneaky of you, and unexpected.”

Arthur shrugged.

“You should be careful with him. It is like you say, playing with fire, _non_?” Francis patted his shoulder, “Good luck.” With that, he was gone, much to Arthur’s relief. Despite his natural instinct to disregard the Frenchman’s advice, his words wormed themselves into his brain. Russia’s venomous smile last night at the pub was still fresh in his mind. He cursed a little. The twat actually had a valid point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was an actual mess and had to go through a million revisions. So please let me know if anything feels off about it, especially with the dialogue and characterizations! I apologize for the delay in updating, so I made sure to make this chapter extra long. And a huge thank you to everyone who left kudos and a comment, it means a lot!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter done! Let me know what you think! Especially if England's dialogue seems off. My boyfriend is British and he looked it over for me, but if either of us missed anything please tell me! :)


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